


Fail Secure

by aphrodite_mine



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Clonecest, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Queer Character, Science Happens, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/pseuds/aphrodite_mine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's Beth, Ali."</p><p><i>Oh</i> Jesus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fail Secure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jmtorres](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmtorres/gifts).



> Written for holly_poly 2013. Many thanks to L for her help working out the kinks in the premise.

Alison's quick to answer the clone phone when it vibrates, sending a low hum through the pile of yarn and crochet hooks she's pretending to work on. "Hello?" It doesn't make sense to let the damn thing go to voicemail, no matter how much Alison would like life to go ahead and get moving on the whole getting back to normal thing. Voicemail could mean another of them dead.

The line is silent for a moment, and Alison has to check -- _yep, Sarah's number_ \-- to be sure the call is truly connected. "Ali?" the voice on the other end asks, and Alison's body goes cold then hot in quick washes of feeling. 

"Who is this?" Alison snaps, because it sure as hell isn't Sarah, and someone else, someone somehow familiar with Sarah's phone… It's another bump in Alison's plan for a quiet evening, a quiet _life_ , at the very least. The tingling at the base of her spine suggests something else, too. 

Because she _knows_ the voice. Knows it as much as she knows anything. 

_Beth_.

"It's Beth, Ali."

 _Oh_ Jesus.

"Are you--" Alison shakes her head, punches the table. The pain reminds her to keep things under control, keep things _normal_. "Eff you, Sarah Manning. This isn't a f-- an _effing_ joke. Don't call me again, you _bitch_." She's shaking, and blood is rushing in her ears, but she still hears the beginning of a protestation as Alison ends the call. 

It doesn't add up. There's no _reason_ for it. She forces herself to pick up the hooks and auto-pilot through a few stitches. She isn't watching her work, though. Can't with tear-blurred vision. The world is just… unrelentingly cruel. That's the only explanation -- for any of this! It's the only reason for a girl to grow up alone, to walk amongst the rubble of a marriage, to be a _clone_. To fall in love with a genetic twin. To lose her. To find her again, for the briefest of seconds on a _fucking_ phone call.

She's crying, and the yarn is a horrible color. 

**

After Alison refuses to make dinner for the third night in a row, Donnie gruffly takes Gemma and Oscar out for "Chinese or something, Jesus, Alison," and expresses the hope that she'll be more "herself" when they get back. Herself. That's a tall order. Instead of trying to figure out what that means, Alison pours herself a second glass of wine despite knowing better and stares at the place where Aynsley died until her eyes lose focus and she's crying again, probably. It's disgusting. She never used to cry. 

Cosima might describe it as a secondary, unanticipated consequence of the subject becoming cognizant. It should help that most of the moms Alison knows take some form of antidepressant, and they don't worry about stepping in front of trains or finding themselves staring down the barrel of someone else's gun. It doesn't. 

She's taking a sip of wine, not even tasting it aside from the bitter, when the knock comes at the sliding glass door. Three rapid knocks, a pause, then four more.

The reaction is immediate. Alison can't help it -- she is facing the sliding doorway before she even realizes that the pattern is familiar. _Beth's knock._ There, underneath her own reflection is the familiar face she never intended to recognize as a separate being, let alone one she feels such conflicting emotions towards. Sarah looks… she doesn't look like herself, but that isn't enough to stop the tirade from pouring from Alison's mouth as she undoes the lock. "I don't know what's gotten into you, Sarah, but I am _very_ near the end of my patience for whatever… bullshit you're trying to pull." The door slides open, and Sarah's face reflects enough guilt that Alison knows her message has been heard. "Well? I'm sure you have some kind of excuse planned."

Sarah steps inside, but sort of… _shrinks_ against the light of indoors. "I shouldn't have called you. That was… stupid."

"Yes. It was."

"But it doesn't change that I'm Beth."

Alison opens her mouth and closes it abruptly. Sarah _is_ speaking without her usual… accent and inflections. But that doesn't mean a damn thing. After all, hasn't it been Sarah's job -- Sarah's life and death, practically -- to impersonate their fallen sister. She can feel herself tensing up, her hands tightening into fists, and tears -- of… rage, of so much more -- pushing behind her eyes. But instead of letting it take her, Alison shakes her head, and turns away. "I need you to leave my house."

"Ali," Sarah whispers, and Alison's entire body jerks when her hand, still cold from outdoors but clammy with inner heat, closes around Alison's wrist.

Barely contained, Alison takes a step, forcefully ignoring the way her knees wobble. "You have until I reach my wine to explain yourself, Sarah Manning."

To her credit, Sarah doesn't hesitate. "My brother called me Lizard when I was little, and once I got so mad that I punched him. I knocked his front teeth loose, and he--"

"Left a scar on your knuckle." Alison can't breathe. She spins around, so dizzy, and she's shocked that she ever saw Sarah in the woman standing before her, because her look, the sort of earnest, pained half-smile on her face, is pure Beth. Alison extends her hand, and obedient, Beth places hers neatly in the palm. Alison traces her fingers, running her thumb over each knuckle and feeling -- "Nothing." She frowns. "What's going on."

Sarah -- _Beth_ \-- shifts and quirks her lip. "We haven't exactly figured that part out, yet. It… took a few days to even realize. But I'm still me, I'm Sarah, and she's here too." She pauses, blinks, then says again without Sarah's accent, "I'm here, too."

If they were two bodies instead of, apparently, two in one, Alison would be doing a double-take. As it is, however, she settles for a knotted brow and a dramatic sigh. "I need a drink," she admits, though it isn't the drink she needed to believe all of this -- the one she went for just a few short moments ago. It's the drink she needs to make this go down a little easier. It feels true in the deep pit of her stomach, the same place that burned and ached the first time she heard the word _clone_. 

"Don't, Ali," Beth says and touches Alison's wrist again. Her touch, though tender, burns. 

"How _dare_ you!" The pressure behind Alison's eyes is winning and she's crying again. "As if you never used to forget, to make it all just a little bit easier. As if you didn't run -- as if you didn't leave me. Leave _us_."

Beth deflates, pulling back and wincing. "It seems I wasn't meant to leave."

"Doesn't mean you didn't try." Now Alison is the one pushing forward, stepping into Beth's personal space, suddenly spitting with all the feeling she's tried to suppress these past weeks. The raw sadness, the _anger_.

"Ali, I didn't--" Beth looks trapped. Beth looks _sorry_. "--my intention wasn't to leave you. I just. Everything I saw kept getting darker and darker and I was only going to pull you in with me."

Alison doesn't think about where Sarah has gone. Beth is all she sees, all she _can_ see. Despite herself, all she wants to do is make it better for Beth, to comfort her, to touch her and feel the little spark of hope. "Isn't that my choice? Maybe… I wanted to be taken in, for once."

Beth shakes her head, hair dropping across her face. "Not by despair, Alison. You've had _enough_ sadness." She looks up and into Alison's eyes, her own utterly naked. "I never thought I'd have to apologize. Fuck, I couldn't even leave you -- any of you -- a note. How could I ever justify escaping and leaving whatever remained to fall on you? We're clones, Alison. We were created for something, and we know damn well that something isn't a white picket fence." She shifts, straightens up, shoves the hair out of her eyes. "Hold on--" Sarah, now, who has somehow been here the whole time, listening, playing audience. Alison's stomach flips. "Look. This isn't a fucking death sentence. It doesn't have to be. None of us is alone here," she laughs, and Alison can almost taste the bitter, "as painfully obvious as that is currently. Yeah, we didn't ask for it, but no one asks to be born, either. No one gets to choose the lot they're born into." Having said her piece, Sarah vanishes. It's strange watching them shift. _Strange_ being both an understatement and a perfect description. Their passion is different. Where Beth clings in desperation, Sarah stands back and demands attention all on her own. 

Strength, Alison thinks, is a kind of lie they all tell themselves and each other in small, coded ways. Alison dresses every morning in coordinating colors and makes breakfast for her kids even though it all might end in a heartbeat. Cosima attends classes she never knows if she'll end up putting to use. Sarah stands tall and loud and never apologizes. Beth steps in front of a train.

And somehow, some way, Beth is standing in front of her again. Her eyes are still haunted, but differently. Alison lifts a hand to cup Beth's cheek, willing the tremors to stop. Beth is warm, and soft, and Alison's fingertips against her scalp feel exactly the same. "I can't forgive you, you know."

"I don't expect you to." Beth shakes her head, leaning subtly towards Alison's touch. "I'm not sure I could, either." Alison traces Beth's eyelashes with the pad of her thumb, and Beth's exhale is quiet resignation. "I know I have no right to say this, but. I missed you."

Alison presses her expression flat. "Life has… sucked since you left."

Beth reaches up to cup Alison's hand in her own. She squeezes, and shuts her eyes. "I almost asked you to come with me," she admits, finally daring to look at Alison once the words are out.

She pulls back, pulls her hand free of Beth's. Her head is spinning with questions, possibility. "You know I could never--"

"I know. And -- I love that about you."

Alison whimpers and before she knows it, she is cradling Beth's face in both her hands, shaking and needy. "I've never been good at staying angry with you."

Beth sucks in a long breath and settles into an awkward smile. "Don't misunderstand, okay, I'm -- It's great that you've gotten to reunite and all that, but," _Sarah_ gently tugs Alison's hands away from her face. "I think we should probably talk about, like, some rules."

It's impossible to do anything but recoil, and Alison manages to take a step backwards, clutching her hands to her chest, before beginning to spew apologies. Quicker than Alison might give her credit for, Sarah catches her by the elbow. "Hey, you don't have to do that. Okay?" She squeezes slightly. "You aren't doing anything wrong."

Alison can picture herself standing a little straighter and biting out, "You're right," but this is the one thing she's never been so sure about. Never been _strong_ about, even in her own mind. 

"Sorry, Ali," she says, Beth now, sliding her hand to entwine itself with Alison's. "We're still figuring this out. It's… a pretty steep learning curve."

"I need to sit down," Alison finally manages. She gropes blindly and finds the back of the couch, slouching immediately against the borrowed stability. 

Sarah laughs, the sound somehow completely different from the shy, dulcet tones of Beth's amusement. "This is crazy, right? I'm pretty sure this is fucking crazy." She helps Alison to sit in the center of the couch, carefully taking the seat next to her. "You're actually taking this better than I did, the first time she piped up." She reaches out, seems to hesitate, and then smooths her palm over Alison's hair. 

"I could really use that drink," Alison whispers. She stares at Sarah for a long moment before cautiously touching her chin. "Beth's really in there? This isn't some.." _Trick_. She can't make herself say it, not now.

There's that strange, subtle shift again, and Beth lifts Alison's hand to kiss her fingers. "I'm here."

"And Sarah?"

"I'm here too. Crazy, yeah?"

"Really crazy." Alison exhales and slowly releases the grip she didn't realize she'd been keeping on Beth's -- Sarah's -- hand and the couch cushion. "You said something about rules. Let's talk rules."

"I want to kiss you," Beth says, all in a desperate rush. 

"And," Sarah swallows and looks down. "I think I'm okay with that." Her gaze returns to Alison's. "The question is, I guess, if you are."

Alison's mind flashes with all the echoes of desire she's felt, the fresh, the raw, the painful. The confusion, the loss. The fleeting, terrifying reassurance. She doesn't trust her voice -- she's afraid of everything spilling out and drowning them all. She's afraid, but when the fear peels back, all she can see is the woman in front of her, her clone, and the slowly changing light in her eyes. 

She doesn't trust her words, but her mouth will relay the message. Her mouth will do just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> There are two major types of security: fail safe and fail secure. The fail safe method, in the event of an emergency, opens all doors and gives information and persons means to escape. Fail secure, on the other hand, locks down completely, keeping solid possession of endangered information and persons.


End file.
